The last word in backstreet cafes: not even locals can find it. In a split-level dining room filled with mismatched furniture, they serve good, generous, homestyle Creole platters, plus poor boys. All of the cooking is at the very least satisfying; some of it verges on brilliant. The many regulars glory in treating the place almost like a secret clubhouse.
The Rendon Inn is an old neighborhood cafe in a location so obscure that even locals who have been there before have a hard time finding it. Although you would never know it to look at the outside, the place is much more sheveled (is that a word?) than before the storm. Renovations necessitated by the deep flood in Broadmoor left it looking almost sleek, with tiled floors, tables and chairs than match, and other amenities never seen there before. Among things that haven't changed are great daily specials, including exceptional red beans and rice. I've eaten them there for thirty years, always to complete satisfaction.
The last word in backstreet cafes: not even locals can find it. In a split-level dining room filled with mismatched furniture, they serve good, generous, homestyle Creole platters, plus poor boys. All of the cooking is at the very least satisfying; some of it verges on brilliant. The many regulars glory in treating the place almost like a secret clubhouse.
| Attitude | 0 |
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| Environment | 0 |
| Hipness | 0 |
| Local Color | 2 |
| Service | 0 |
| Value | 0 |
| Wine | 0 |
